


Cole Carves a Pumpkin

by Bowm8935



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: halloween in thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: Carving pumpkins with Cole - for the DA Trick-or-Treat on tumblrPosting a bit late here D:





	

“Why do we do this?” Cole asks as he cocks his head to the side and stares at the pumpkin sitting in front of him, unmoving. His hands fiddle with the knife just off to the side, something he was told to use to carve into the orange skin, to use to pull up the stem so he can see into the belly of it. 

He doesn’t understand.

“It’s a custom we have in Ostwick,” Mar Trevelyan answers cheerfully, hands deep in his own pumpkin. He’s using a spoon to scoop out the innards, each scraping noise followed by a soft  _ splat _ as he tosses them in a bowl next to him. “We carve patterns in pumpkins for Halloween, and then put candles in them to watch them glow. Plus, it’s fun. We could use more fun around here,” he says as he pulls out an arm, waving it in a grand gesture meant to encompass all of Skyhold. His hand is covered in orange strings, tan ovals-but-not-ovals clinging to them.

“Slimy, stringy, satisfying. Save the seeds. She’ll be happy.” It comes naturally, a river of thoughts flowing through him. He frowns, hand gripping the knife finally as he brings it up to the top and slices down, the blade sliding through the flesh easily. “Are we killing them?”

Laughter bursts forth from the large, horned man sitting next to the Inquisitor, and he slams a hand down onto the table in amusement. The table shudders under the impact even as a few others join in the laughter, albeit quieter. Cole pauses in his movements, watching Iron Bull curiously as he snorts loudly before shaking his head, still chuckling under his breath.

“Look, kid, they’re as good as dead already. Once we plucked them from the vines, we killed them. Now it’s just about making them look pretty,” Varric says next to him, eyes sparkling. At Cole’s confused look, he smiles kindly. “People like to look at them when they’re lit up in the dark. It makes them happy. Plus, we can use most of what we scoop out to make food. Roasted pumpkin seeds are actually quite tasty.” He shoves a spoon toward Cole, motioning at the stem. “Just pull off the top now. Time to gut the thing.”

Cole does as he’s told, and he sets the uneven triangle next to him before he peers inside. “Scoop, dump, scoop, dump, scoop, dump,” he mutters, the internal metronome of Blackwall forefront in his his mind, and he falls into the same pattern as the warrior without a second thought. 

“I’m not sure I understand yet how this qualifies as ‘fun,’” Dorian complains as places a spoonful of seeds into the bowl next to him. His face is wrinkled with disgust as he regards his project, delicately reaching back inside. “It’s akin to torture, if you ask me.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you, then,” Mar says cheekily, setting down his own spoon in triumph. “Aha! Time for the next phase.” 

“Hey Dorian, you should put this one on your head and then do your magic shite!” Sera giggles as she shoves her pumpkin toward him. She has already finished, hers having a silly face with mismatched eyes. He raises an eyebrow at her and pushes it back at her, shaking his head but unable to keep the smile from crossing his face. 

“Carved a castle for her. She squealed at the sight. Want to make her happy again.” Cole’s pumpkin is nearly empty already, his movements quick and steady as he empties it to only be a shell. “One more time. Just once.”

His concentrations is broken when he feels Varric elbow him in the side. “Kid, perhaps you should stop,” he says quietly, flicking his eyes over to where Mar is now frozen, eyes staring in horror at the table. 

Cole watches the Inquisitor, aware of the tumble of feelings as they twist and turn inside. He sets down his knife and appears next to the man, looking up at him from under the brim of his hat. “Gone. Despair, eating inside, failure like poison in my veins. I can help.”

Mar glances at him, and his face lacks all the cheer that it normally has. “Not this time,” he answers, hazel eyes unusually serious. “You can’t change the past.” He breathes out quietly and starts to draw on the pumpkin, the front of his auburn hair dipping down over his forehead as he leans forward.

“She lives. She remembers.” Cole blinks as the man’s head snaps up to look at him in shock, and the hope he feels is almost overwhelming. “The circle fell but she lives. She fights now, and she misses you.” 

“My sister… is alive?” It’s a whisper, raw emotion pouring through the words. Cole nods, and Mar’s face once again lights up, the joy he feels inside reflected tenfold in his eyes. “Where is she? I must go to her as soon as possible,” he nearly shouts in enthusiasm as he beckons a soldier over with orders to fetch the spymaster and commander. 

“She is on her way,” Cole replies, and he stands to walk back to his place at the other table. “Just a little further, fight, don’t give up. Must find him, keep him safe. Brother, I’m coming.”

The rest of the time carving passes quickly, with a surplus of scouts moving in and out of the room as Mar gives orders and makes decisions to prepare to send help to his sister. Cole falls into the rhythm of Blackwall’s mind again, and he produces a pumpkin with an identical smiley face as the warden. “They are happy,” he observes, watching curiously as candles are placed inside and Dorian lights them carefully. 

“Good job, kid,” Varric says as he folds his arms over his chest and watches the candles flicker. 

“I helped,” is the simple reply, and Varric lets out a laugh and gives Cole a gentle pat on the back.

“Yes, that you did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine they found her, safe and sound. :)


End file.
